


And We Set Fire To Homes That We Once Loved

by nevernevergirl



Series: sad gertchase but make it comics [1]
Category: Runaways (Comics)
Genre: Angst, F/M, Missing Scene, but they Actually Talk About Things For Once, rainbow rowell/kris anka run, ship is technically past
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-04
Updated: 2018-07-04
Packaged: 2019-06-05 09:31:05
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,750
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15167747
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nevernevergirl/pseuds/nevernevergirl
Summary: Two years ago, Gert died. A month ago, her (ex) boyfriend changed that. She's been pretty good at not talking about it, especially not to him, but eventually, something's going to give.Sometime after moving back into the hostel with their family, Gert and Chase avoid each other, yell, avoid each other more, and finally get their shit together and talk.





	And We Set Fire To Homes That We Once Loved

**Author's Note:**

> So, this is 10000% comics canon because I wanted to try my hand at those versions, and takes place sometime during the second arc of the current Runaways run. Several issues have come out since I started writing this, because I'm the slowest writer alive, but assume this happens somewhere after they leave Molly's grandma, but before Julie Power visits. Mentions of pretty much every main Runaways book + Avengers Avengers arena. Gert's still 16, so the actual relationship's in the past just like in the current book, but this really just covers a few conversations I hope we get to see eventually!

Gert’s glad this version of the Hostel isn’t one she’s familiar with. The jarring sensation of  _ where the fuck am I _ when she wakes up in the morning has to be better than succumbing to a few bleary-minded minutes of ignorant bliss; she’s always coped best under a philosophy of realism. It’s what makes her an  _ excellent  _ runaway (the lowercase version without the superhero implications they’d never asked for,  _ obviously _ ).

 

The downside, of course, is that it’s pretty damn hard to roll over and get a couple more hours of sleep when you don’t have the luxury of forgetting you’ve been functionally dead for two years. 

 

Before they’d found out their parents were murderous supervillains and they’d all run away the first time, she’d finally gotten around to asking her parents to make her an appointment with a therapist. She’d done a lot of Googling and a lot more self-diagnosing, and she’d been pretty sure she had some kind of an anxiety disorder. Now—well, it’s not that she doesn’t think she has anxiety, because  _ duh _ , but she’s rethinking the word  _ disorder _ . Surely acute physical panic is the only rational response to being pulled two years into the future after being stabbed by a murderous time-traveling lunatic, right? 

 

At any rate, it’s 7 am, and she’s still a sixteen year old high school drop out, for fuck’s sake—she absolutely should  _ not _ be up, but here she is. Awake as hell in a musty room that still feels borrowed.

 

She huddles in her blanket nest, pissed off and slowly accepting her fate for a solid ten minutes before grabbing her glasses off the nightstand and Chase’s old hoodie off the floor, putting them both on in the most satisfyingly huffy way possible.

 

Gert makes her way down the hall, thinking maybe Nico will be up, and they can grunt at each other irritably or whatever until it’s a reasonable hour. Instead, she finds herself frozen outside of Chase’s door, unable or unwilling to go any further. 

 

She used to share a room with Chase because they were together, and she doesn’t anymore because they’re not. It’s been two years for him and three weeks for her since the last time they slept in the same bed. It bothers her. It’s a completely normal reaction to a stupidly fucked up situation, and she can admit that. 

 

Just, you know. Not to him. 

 

Here’s the thing: this is why she can’t sleep. Gert’s pretty sure she forgot how to sleep alone five months ago ( _ two years _ and five months ago). She doesn’t know what to do about that, so she stands in his doorway, taking in the way he still kicks the blankets off his side of the bed, cataloguing the tools and spare parts strewn across the room, cringing a little at the half-empty whiskey bottle on the nightstand.

 

“Gert? What are you doing?”

 

His voice is low and confused and sleepy-raspy, and it makes her heart stop (again) for just moment. 

 

This stupid  _ boy _ . Man. Manboy? Ugh.

 

“Nothing,” she says; she’s surprised a little at how soft her voice sounds. “I wanted a glass of water.”

 

“That’s in the kitchen,” he says. He’s not teasing her; he’s not awake enough to be teasing her.

 

“Yeah,” she mumbles. “I can’t sleep, I guess.”

 

“But why are you just standing— oh,” he says, and there’s her guy. He’s not an idiot or oblivious like most people think. The thing with Chase is that he  _ feels _ a lot, and he wasn’t really allowed to do that when he was a kid. So he saves it for when it counts, and when it counts, he feels right along with you. 

 

She’s always counted for him. It’s kind of nice to know she still does, even with how messed up everything is. 

 

She shrugs and hopes he gets it. He bites his lip.

 

“Do you want to come in here for a couple of hours? Until the sun’s up for real?” 

 

“That might be weird,” she says, because she’s an idiot, and because it’s true.

 

“I’ll leave,” he shrugs. “I should probably get up anyway, I have to take Molly to school.”

 

“It’s Saturday. And I’d just be not sleeping in your room instead of mine,” she sighs.

 

He bites the inside of his lip. “I had a really hard time sleeping for, like. A year,” he says, like a peace offering, only they aren’t fighting and it doesn’t make her feel any better. “I still do, I guess, but I got used to it after a year.”

 

She makes a face. “Please don’t say things like that. It makes me feel all…past tense.”

 

He frowns. “What does that mean?” 

 

“Nothing, Chase,” she sighs. “You really don’t care if I come in here for a couple of hours?”

 

“Of course I don’t care, Gert,” and he says it in this tired tone of voice she hadn’t really heard him use before all of this. She hates it. “I don’t want it to be weird for you.”

 

She resists the ugly urge to point out if  _ that _ were true, he’d have let her stay dead. Instead, she shrugs and goes over to the empty side of the bed (the left side, where she always sleeps, and she tries not to think about that too much), and grabs a few pillows, settling them on end of the bed, opposite Chase’s head. 

 

“There,” she says, lying down with her feet next to his shoulders and grabbing at the blankets he’d abandoned. “Less weird. Sort of.”

 

He grins like she’s the smartest person in the world, and it’s so familiar, she thinks she might actually be able to sleep. 

 

She wonders if that’s going to be a problem. 

  
  
  


It’s not weird in the morning. Chase doesn’t give it a chance to be, because he’s gone before she wakes up at a much more reasonable hour somewhere closer to noon. She’s willing to bet he hung around just until he was sure she was asleep. Chase is a decent guy. And he feels guilty, she’s pretty sure.

 

Which is fine with her. Because it  _ is _ sort of his fault she’s two years away from anything resembling normal sleep habits. 

 

When she makes her way to the kitchen, he’s there with Molly, both of them hunched over a frying pan. Gert arches an eyebrow, leaning against the doorway.

 

“I didn’t know either of you knew how to turn on a stove,” she says, and they look up; it takes Molly roughly half a second to bound over to her, grabbing her by the hand and dragging her over.

 

“We’re making pancakes,” she explains. “Or we’re trying to. Chase sucks, he’s already burned three of them.”

 

“I don’t suck,” he says, concentrating as he pours batter into a pan. “Is that too much? How are you supposed to know if it’s too much?”

 

“Aren’t you supposed to use a griddle for this?” Gert asks, skeptically. “Dale always used a griddle.”

 

“My grandma does, too,” Molly agrees. 

 

“Your dad was a creepy murderer, and your grandma’s a mad scientist,” he grumbles, moving to search for a spatula. 

 

“Morals aren’t a prerequisite for good breakfast foods,” Gert shrugs. “Look at every major corporate franchise.”

 

“Except Denny’s,” Molly says. “Oh man, Gert, were you dead before Denny’s started using Twitter? You  _ have _ to see their Twitter.”

 

Chase ignores them both, holding up a spatula triumphantly and going back to his pancakes. He sticks his tongue out a little as he tries to free the pancake from the pan’s grip. Out of habit, Gert watches him. 

 

“Honey,” she says, and it slips out before she can catch herself, because it would have been normal a few weeks ago, “Chase.”

 

He looks up. Her cheeks feel hot.

 

“Um. You just have a little....on your face,” she mutters.

 

He looks at her confusedly, and she takes a step forward. It’s hard, because she’s thinking about it now, but if she doesn’t, he’ll really  _ know _ she’s thinking about it, and it’ll be  _ weird _ . Weirder. She reaches a hand up, brushing a bit of stray batter off his cheek.

 

“Oh,” he says, quietly. “Thanks.”

 

“Yeah. No problem.”

 

Two years/weeks/whatever ago, he’d have grabbed her hand and licked the batter off her fingers, and she’d have called him gross, and they probably would have let the pancakes burn while they made out instead. But that was when he was still two weeks away from his 18th birthday, and now—she can tell he hasn’t shaved today. He could probably grow a full beard if he wanted.

 

She pulls her hand back.

 

He turns away.

 

The pancakes start to smoke.

 

“ _ Chase _ ,” Molly says, exasperatedly. “You suck.”

 

“Forget it,” he says, turning the stove off and moving the pan off the burner. “We’ll go to the diner. I’ll go get everyone else.”

 

Before Gert can really register it, he’s already on the other side of the room. 

 

“Do I have to put on real pants?” Molly calls out.

 

“Nah. It’s Saturday. You can wear pajamas all weekend if you want,” Chase says, walking out.

 

Gert slumps against the counter. Molly eyes her warily.

 

“I can’t decide what’s dumber,” she says, finally. “The way you guys used to make out all of the time, or the way you are now.”

 

Gert snorts. “Me either, kid.”

 

Suddenly, Molly scowls, crossing her arms. “Stop calling me kid, Gert. You’re only three years older than me now.”

 

Gert raises her eyebrows, holding up her hands. “Okay, okay. Me either, young lady?”

 

Molly rolls her eyes. “This is so stupid.  _ You’re _ the one always talking about how adults don’t take us seriously, but you act just like them.”

 

“Woah. Molly, I—”

 

“Whatever,” Molly mutters, stomping off.

 

Gert stares at the empty doorway.

 

“What the hell  _ happened _ when I was dead?”

  
  
  


“Karolina?” Gert raps her knuckles against Karolina’s bedroom door twice, then heads in; she figures that’s a reasonable enough warning. 

 

Karolina is sitting on her bed, headphones on, engrossed in her laptop. Gert closes the door behind her, and she looks up. 

 

“Oh,” she says, taking her headphones off. “Hey, Gert.”

 

“Hey. Can I borrow some nail polish? I was going to steal some of Nico’s, but I’m not really in a Lincoln Park After Dark kind of mood.”

 

Karolina grins, shifting so she’s lying stomach down on the bed, leaning off the side and lifting up blankets to rummage underneath. She drags out a crate, and Gert settles down on the floor next to it.

 

“Did you want me to do your nails?” Karolina asks, propping herself up on her elbows. “I need to drive back to school for a study group pretty soon, but I probably have time if you don’t want anything fancy.”

 

Gert rolls her eyes automatically. “I’m 16, not six, Karolina. I can do my own nails.”

 

Karolina frowns, pushing herself back up to sitting. “Yeah, of course you can,” she says, shaking her head. “Sorry.”

 

Gert stares down at the plethora of glitter and pastel and sensible neutrals. Karolina’s like her sister, and she’d, like. Jump in front of a bus for her. Shared trauma is thicker than blood, etc. But they’ve never been  _ close _ , even before Karolina took off with Xavin. She’s always been pretty sure that if it hadn’t been for their parents, there wasn’t really a scenario in the world where Gert Yorkes and Karolina Dean would have crossed paths. 

 

But it’s been sort of different now. They’ve been hanging out, and it’s actually been kind of cool? When they’d all first moved back in, it had kind of been by default: things with Chase were weird, Victor and Nico were being even broodier than she was, and Molly had school. But she  _ likes _ spending time with Karolina. They’ve caught up on over half of her tv shows, and a week ago, they stayed up until 5 am, talking about Xavin and Julie and actively  _ not  _ talking about Nico. 

 

It would just kind of suck if Karolina felt obligated to do all that. She’d get over it, because missing two years or not, she’s old enough to know that sometimes people do that— care because they have to. But it would suck.

 

“You just don’t have to help with me, or whatever,” Gert mutters, fiddling with the polish. She feels like a big baby.

 

Karolina slides off the bed, settling on for next to her, frown. “That’s not what I’m doing. I’m sorry I made you feel that way, though.”

 

The last bit sounds clunky and self-aware in a way Gert doesn’t remember her Karolina ever being. It’s adult, she guess. Or sort of adult. 

 

Gert shrugs. “It’s not really you. Or just you. It’s just weird being younger than everyone. I mean, younger than I already was.”

 

Karolina nods, even though that’s probably the understatement of the decade. Not that Gert would know, considering she’s skipped a fifth of it. 

 

Gert really wishes she could get out of her own head for, like. 5 hours, at least. 

 

She picks up a bottle, a bright green chunky glitter that’s going to be a bitch to get off. “I think I’ll try this one.”

 

Karolina raises her eyebrows. “That’s different. You usually go with something a little closer to the purple family,” she says, tugging a strand or Gert’s hair lightly. 

 

“I think I’m ready for a change,” she says, deadpan to hide the double entendre. Karolina smiles a little and rummages through the bin, holding up a base coat.

 

“Here, this is supposed to make it easier to get off. Or last longer. Or not stain your nails. One of those,” she says. Gert takes the bottle, opening it and starting on her toes. “Molly said you guys got in a fight before breakfast.”

 

“Brunch,” she says, idly. “It was two in the afternoon, it was brunch. And it wasn’t really a fight.”

 

“She’s just being 13,” Karolina tries. Gert snorts.

 

“Pretty sure that’s the exact kind of thing she’s picking fights over.”

 

“Yeah, I guess. I just mean she’s kind of been like that with all of us, lately. But I think it’s just normal middle school stuff. Nothing to worry about.”

 

“I wasn’t worried,” Gert shrugs. It’s not really a lie, because she’s pretty sure worried isn’t the right word for what she is. For once. 

 

Karolina watches her for a moment, and Gert pretends not to notice. After a few seconds, she nudges her shoulder, gently. “Gert? Come on. Tell me what’s going on.”

 

Gert paints a thick stripe of glitter down the center of her big toenail.

 

“Do you ever wonder if we’re all too different now?” she asks, quietly. “Like, we were together in the first place because we survived all of that crap together. But I missed two years, and it sort of sounds like everyone had their own crap going on now.”

 

Karolina frowns. “We’re family, Gert. I think that still means something.”

 

Gert sighs, picking at the carpet. “I think we know better than most people that it doesn’t.”

 

“Well, we want it to mean something. I do, anyway,” she says, leaning her head against Gert’s. Gert takes a deep breath, finding Karolina’s hand and covering it with her own.

 

“Yeah. Me too,” she mumbled. 

 

“Look. Not a day goes by that I don’t hate myself for not realizing Nico and Chase were missing when Arcade took them to Murderworld, or for not being there when Molly was looking for them, or for not coming back when it was all over,” Karolina says. “And I’m never going to get what any of that was like for them.”

 

Gert raises her eyebrows. “Great pep talk, Kare.”

 

“The  _ point _ ,” she says, “is that it’s not like leaving is going to help. Like, what, I’m just going to transfer to Empire State next semester and come home on school breaks? 

 

Gert frowns. It feels like she’s missing something. “Was that...an option?”

 

“No,” she says, too quickly. “Of course not. I’m just...I’ve been gone too long. And I want to fix everything we should have been doing the whole time. Like this.”

 

She nudges Gert’s nail polish bottle, smiling. Gert gives her a small smile back.

 

Two years ago, Gert would have rolled her eyes at how candy-coated that whole sentiment was, and they probably would have ended up fighting. But Gert doesn’t want to fight with Karolina right now. She just sort of feels sad.

 

“Yeah. I guess you’re right.”

  
  
  


“This is a terrible idea.”

 

Victor can’t do body language because he doesn’t actually have a body right now, but his tone is really good. Gert can picture him crossing his arms and slumping in a chair to go along with the glare he’s already giving her.

 

“Probably. Luckily, I didn’t ask you.”

 

“None of you ever ask me anything,” he grumbles.  “You just kidnap me. Or reboot me. Or make me  _ complicit in spying on your boyfriend _ .” 

 

“Ex-boyfriend,” she mutters. “And I’m researching, not spying. And you don’t have to  _ do _ anything. We had Youtube two years ago, I can handle it.”

 

Victor rolled his eyes. “I literally can’t go anywhere. I’m witnessing. I’m an innocent bystander in your weird Cold War with Chase, and you’re about to step on a grenade and take me down with you in the blast.”

 

“You’re being melodramatic, and you know you’re better than mixed metaphors. And Chase and I are fine,” she sighed, reaching over and turning Victor around, away from the laptop screen. “There. You can’t witness anything now.”

 

Victor sighs. “If you and Chase are fine, why can’t you just ask him? He doesn’t really have a problem talking about what happened.”

 

Gert shrugs before realizing Victor can’t see her. “Just because he’d talk about it doesn’t mean he’d tell me the truth. He tried to tell me you were fine when you were  _ dead _ .”

 

“Technically, I can’t be—”

 

“Shut  _ up _ , Victor,” she mutters, typing ‘Chase Stein Murderworld Interview’ into the search bar.

 

She takes a deep breath and presses play on the first result. 

 

_ “Turns out I’m the idiot kung fu master of surviving horrible, terrifying shit. Seriously. I outlive everybody. Other people? Smarter people? Nah, they die. Wilder, my parents, Gert. First girl I ever...yeah. She died in my arms. Twice. So for once in my life, I wasn’t worried about losing the game. I was scared I’d win.” _

 

“Gert?”

 

“I’m fine,” she says, quickly. Victor sighs.

 

“I’m not going to say I told you so, because that would be mean,” he says, but he’s gentle about it. It makes her skin crawl. He’s still turned around, so she wipes at her eyes with the sleeve of her hoodie, which is actually Chase’s hoodie, which makes her stupid eyes water  _ more _ .

 

“I’m going to go see if anyone wants to order Chinese for dinner,” she mumbled. “Come on, I’ll drop you off with Molly.”

 

Victor sighs. Gert ignores him, standing up and closing the laptop.

 

When she turns around, Chase is standing in the doorway, staring past her, eyes fixed on the computer.

 

“Oh,” Gert says quietly. 

 

“What?” Victor says. “What’s going on? Can’t turn myself around, remember?”

 

“Why were you watching that?” Chase asks, just as quietly.

 

“Oh,” Victor says. 

 

“Because I was curious,” Gert says, crossing her arms. 

 

“I would have told you anything you wanted to know,” he sighed. Chase  _ sighs _ a lot now, she’s noticed.

 

“I tried to tell her that,” Victor chimes in, and Gert turns him around just so she can glare at him. 

 

“Try harder next time,” Chase mutters. 

 

“Excuse me?” Gert says, her voice pitching up. “Victor can’t tell me what to do.”

 

“Clearly,” Victor mutters.

 

“Shut up, Victor,” she says, at the same time Chase mutters “Not helping, Victor.”

 

“Okay, sorry, carry on with your bickering.”

 

“We’re not bickering,” Chase says. Gert rolls her eyes. “Gert, I didn’t mean it like that. You just...caught me off guard.”

 

“Yeah, well, you caught me off guard when you dragged me two years into the future!”

 

His face falls, and she immediately wants to take it back, but it’s out there. Chase closes his eyes for a moment, then looks at her, so softly it kind of feels like it’s killing her. Again. 

 

“I know I screwed it up,” he mutters. “And it sucks. I’m sorry. But I couldn’t just let you die again.”

 

“Maybe you could have just left everything alone in the first place!”

 

He takes a deep breath. “Please don’t say that. You know I hate when you say that.”

 

“Ditto,” Victor mutters. She rolls her eyes

 

“Victor, you literally played dead for weeks because you were upset he rebooted you,” she snaps. 

 

“That’s not what I was doing,” Victor says, quickly. “It’s complicated, and—”

 

“It’s okay, Victor,” Chase says, quietly. “I know. And Gert’s allowed to be pissed off, I get it.”

 

“You don’t,” she snaps. “You can’t get it. You woke up one day and decided my death was the cause of all of this  _ bullshit _ . And maybe you were right, but I’m the one you’re using like a fucking band-aid, Chase.”

 

His face falls into an expression she’s never seen on him before, and this time, she really, really wishes she could take it back. 

 

“You think I woke up one day and decided that?” His voice is so low and steady it sends a shiver down her spine. “You know what, Gert? You don’t know  _ shit _ .”

 

“Chase,” Victor says, carefully. “Maybe now’s not—”

 

“No,” Gert says, straightening up. “Go on, Chase. What do I not know?”

 

She’s goading him. It’s stupid. It’s so, so stupid, and she’s not actually sure she wants to hear whatever he has to say, isn’t sure she’s  _ ready _ to hear it, but she can’t stop herself.

 

“I wanted to save you as soon as it happened.” he says, keeping his eyes on her. “I would have done anything.”

 

Gert takes a deep breath, feeling whatever vindictive bullshit just possessed her deflate, just a little.

 

“I know you didn’t want me to die, Chase,” she mumbles.

 

“No,” he says, a little impatiently. “I mean, I tried to. I went to the Gibborim.”

 

She stares. Victor sighs, heavily. 

 

“What the fuck would you do that for?”

 

Chase shrugs. “They could bring you back for a sacrifice.”

 

She blinks, confused. “No,” she says, bluntly. “That doesn’t make sense. You wouldn’t do that to that to someone. I don’t know  _ why _ you’re telling me that, because that doesn’t make sense.”

 

She’s not in denial. She just knows Chase. She knows she’s  _ right _ .

 

“He wouldn’t,” Victor sighs. “I mean. He didn’t.”

 

“I was going to give them me,” Chase said, quietly. “But I guess being willing to do that meant I wasn’t an innocent, or some bullshit.”

 

Gert stares.

 

“Chase,” Victor says, carefully. 

 

“I went back in time,” Chase says, ignoring him. “Before this. You were, like. 14, maybe? I didn’t say anything, because I didn’t want to fuck you up anymore than I already had. And then I thought I saw you. This girl with your hair and your eyes in the street, like a year ago. Ran after her in the street and got hit by a bus.”

 

Gert has never wanted to sink into the ground more. 

 

“Chase, bro,” Victor says, quietly. “I don’t think she needs to hear—”

 

“No,” she says, sharply. “No, this is good. I want to know. Keep going, Chase. Tell me all the ways my  _ actual death _ fucked up your life. I can’t fix all of your problems if I don’t know, right?”

 

Chase groans frustratedly. “That’s not what I said. That’s not what I  _ meant _ .”

 

“How am I supposed to take all that?” she snaps. “I died, and you went off the deep end, and I’m alive again, so everything’s supposed to be all better, right? Sorry your whole life got turned upside down, Gert, but at least it sucks less for the rest of us, right?”

 

“I don’t think that’s what he’s saying, Gert,” Victor says.

 

“Chase can tell me what he’s saying, Victor,” she muttered.

 

“Yeah,” Chase says, quietly.  “She’s right, I can.”

 

He takes a step closer. There’s still a good ten feet between them, but it makes her breath catch anyway. She can’t remember the last time she felt so angry and sad and small all at once.

 

“I fucked up,” he says, quietly. “That’s kind of what I do, and I guess if I were you, I’d be pretty pissed I fell for an idiot like me in the first place. And you’re right. I don’t get what it’s like for you.”

 

She swallows, hard. “But?”

 

“But there’s two years full of shit you don’t get, either, and you’re sure as hell not going to get it from a Youtube video.”

 

His eyes are so angry and sad and she wonders if he feels small, too.

 

“Yeah. Okay. I, um. I have to go,” she mutters.

 

She thinks she hears him call her name as she makes her way down the hall, and she ignores him. 

  
  
  


Karolina brings home take-out after her study group; Gert sticks around long enough to grab her General Tso’s and head up to her room. She’s pretty sure Victor’s already filled Nico and Molly in on her fight with Chase, and she’s not really feeling up to a family dinner right now.

 

Old Lace is curled up at the edge of her bed, and she perks up when Gert walks in and tosses her a dumpling. 

 

She settles down on the floor, cross-legged. Old Lace hasn’t moved, but she’s watching her. Anxiety thrums through her veins, and Gert’s not sure if it’s hers, or Lace’s, or her anxiety via Lace. It’s weirdly comforting, because it’s the one thing that feels the same. 

 

“I’m okay,” she says, softly. “I mean. Chase and I had a fight. And I guess I sort of fought with Victor and Molly, too? That’s what probably what you’re feeling right now. Sorry.”

 

Old Lace ambles forward, stopping next to her and crouching down, lowering herself to the ground and resting the tip of her nose against Gert’s thigh. Gert smiles.

 

“Thanks. That helps,” she mumbles, offering her a bit of chicken. Old Lace takes it, and they sit like that for awhile, Gert picking at her food and Lace noisily picking off her plate. After awhile, Lace thwaps her tail, nudging the take out bag at her. Gert frowns, digging through it and pulling out a fortune cookie. 

 

Gert rolls her eyes. “Really? You  _ know _ you eat way too much sugar. Can you get cavities?”

 

Old Lace does her best imitation of shrug, and Gert smiles a little, splitting open the cookie and handing half to Lace before popping the other half in her mouth. She looks down at the tiny slip of paper in her hands.

 

“Time heals all wounds,” she reads, raising her eyebrows. Old Lace snorts. “Jesus. Read the room, cookie.”

 

Old Lace glances toward the door, and thwaps her tail against the floor again.

 

“Would you quit? You’re going to punch a hole through the floor,” she murmurs, then bites her lip. “Are you thinking about Chase?”

 

Old Lace nudges her thigh in response.

 

That’s the one part of Old Lace that makes her feel as weird as the rest of them do; she’s not really  _ just _ Gert’s anymore. She doesn’t regret giving their link to Chase. It probably kept them both safe, and her own weird feelings aside, she’s glad they weren’t alone. 

 

But it’s new. Everything’s so fucking new. 

 

“I said some pretty shitty things to him,” she said, quietly. “And then he said some pretty shitty things back. And I think both of us were probably telling the truth.”

 

Old Lace whines, and Gert pets between her eyes absently. “It’s okay. We’ll be okay.”

 

She tries not to lie to Old Lace, because a) she’s not Lace’s  _ mom _ and b) they’re literally telepathically linked, it’s sort of useless. But this time, Lace must get that she needs to, because she just nuzzles against her leg. 

 

“You should spend the night in Chase’s room,” she says, quietly. “He probably needs you. And I’m not sleeping, anyway.”

  
  
  


“Are you still up?”

 

Nico’s voice jolts Gert out of her half-asleep reverie; she jerks up, banging her head on the arm of the couch for her efforts. She rubs the sore spot absently as she sits up, dragging the blanket she’s got loosely wrapped around her up with her. 

 

“Mostly,” she shrugs. “I have a million seasons of Drag Race to catch up on. Also, I think my brain is melting.”

 

“Can I watch with you?”

 

Gert shrugs. “We’re literally in a common area.”

 

Nico sits and Gert offers her half the blanket. 

 

The thing about Nico is that they were friends, before everything. Not, like. Super close ones. But she always invited Nico to her birthday party growing up, and their moms would set up playdates between Pride meetings when they were little. Maybe that’s why it’s easier to hang out with Karolina. This feels like starting from scratch. Her whole life feels like starting from scratch, especially the parts that were already  _ fine _ . 

 

“I feel like I should ask if you’re okay, but that feels like a stupid thing to ask,” Nico says, finally.

 

“Then don’t ask it,” Gert says. She feels childish, and the way Nico sighs is  _ very  _ ‘we’re not in Neverland anymore.’

 

“Gert, come on. Chase pulled you from the past. It’s weird. We can talk about how it’s weird, if you want.”

 

Gert snorts, because  _ weird _ is the biggest understatement. And because Nico won’t talk about anything that’s happened to  _ her _ in the past two months, let alone two years, so hypocrite much? And also, because there’s not a fix for any of this, beyond putting her back where she belongs, which she’s pretty sure everyone would veto if it was even an option.

 

She fiddles with her blanket, taking a deep breath.

 

“Do you remember when Molly made us watch the Muppet Christmas Carol movie?”

 

Nico raises an eyebrow. “Yeah, of course. I had that one song stuck in my head for a month. And that month was  _ July _ .”

 

“Yeah,” Gert shakes her head. “I feel like I’m in the whole ghost of Christmas future part. Like yesterday everything was fine—”

 

“I don’t know if  _ fine _ is the right word, Gert.”

 

“You know what I mean,” she rolls her eyes. “And now I’m in, like. The darkest timeline.”

 

Nico shrugs. 

 

“Yeah, you’re not wrong. I mean, that’s dramatic. But it sucks.”

 

“And it started with me.”

 

“I don’t think it started with you,” she said, carefully. “But like. After Alex, the way we all were…”

 

“Yeah. I know,” she sighed. “But that’s why Chase brought me back, right?”

 

“Chase brought you back because he loves you,” Nico says. It’s weird, hearing it like that. Nico’s always been pretty blunt, but it’s tough-love blunt, and that’s something that’s always been easier to swallow for Gert. This is just genuine. Like it’s too true and Nico’s too tired to be anything but earnest. 

 

“Yeah, I know,” she says, waving it off because she  _ does _ know, and because she doesn’t really want to deal with that part of it right now. She can admit she needs to talk about it, but she also kind of knows that when she does, it shouldn’t be with Nico. “But he also did because everything was supposed to be messed up without me, right? Like, if I’m the heart of the team or whatever. Which is still bullshit, by the way.”

 

Nico rolls her eyes, but gestures for her to continue. She takes a deep breath.

 

“I don’t know how I’m supposed to get us back to the way we were supposed to be when I don’t know what I would have  _ been _ like if I hadn’t died.”

 

Nico thinks, looking like she’s measuring the weight of her words before she says them. That’s probably a good idea. The rest of them should probably try that. 

 

“You should talk to Chase,” she says finally.

 

Gert rolls her eyes. 

 

“I already did. I know Victor told you everything, so you know it didn’t go so well.”

 

“Yeah, no, you didn’t talk to him, you yelled at him,” she sighs. “Not that you don’t have, like. Every right to yell right now—”

 

“Thank you,” Gert says, primly. Nico rolls her eyes. 

 

“You need to actually tell him what you just told me.”

 

“Great idea, Nico. Definitely haven’t thought of that one.”

 

Nico groans, picking up a pillow and hitting her arm with it. Kind of hard, actually.

 

“Stop thinking about it and actually do it.”

 

“That’s kind of hypocritical,” Gert says, pointedly and childishly, crossing her arms. “Why don’t you do that with Kar—”

 

This time, the pillow hits her in the face.

 

“Fine, fine,” Gert grumbles. “Can I do it in the morning?”

 

“Obviously. I want to finish this episode.”

  
  
  


Nico goes to her room somewhere around 4 and Gert manages to fall asleep in 20 minute increments, like. 7 whole times. Eventually, the sun comes up, and she decides it’s time.

 

If she lies and tells herself she’s getting the painful part over with, she almost feels something resembling brave. 

 

She makes her way to Chase’s room and stands in the doorway, just like she had yesterday morning. She feels older; maybe she’s catching up. 

 

Old Lace is asleep on the floor, snoring softly. But Chase is awake, sitting on his unmade bed, and frowning at a laptop.

 

“Chase?”

 

He looks up, and his face is guarded, and she hates it. 

 

“Hey,” he says, carefully. “Can’t sleep again?”

 

“Something like that.” She bites her lip, nodding at the sleeping dinosaur. “Think she’s making up for both of us. Why’re you up this early?”

 

“Couldn’t sleep, so I thought I’d try working on something for Victor,” Chase shrugs. “Thanks for sending her in here.”

 

“How’d you know I sent her?”

 

“I can still sort of sense her, I guess. Not as strongly as I could before, but it’s still there. And also, she dragged one of your blankets in here and refused to sleep on anything else.”

 

Gert smiles. “Stubborn asshole.”

 

“That’s our girl,” he murmurs, then tenses, looking away. Gert sighs.

 

“We need to talk about before,” she mumbles. 

 

“Yeah,” he sighs. “I’m sorry. I got upset, and I was being a dick. Victor was right, you didn’t need to hear all of that.”

 

“Thanks,” she says, quietly. “But he wasn’t right. I mean, you were being a dick. But you were right. There’s two years of stuff I don’t get it.”

 

He watches her carefully for a moment, then sets the laptop aside and pats the bed next to him. She goes over, and moves the pillows around fussily for a second before settling next to him. Their knees touch. 

 

“Was everything you said true?” she asked, picking at a stray thread on his comforter.

 

“Yeah,” he mumbles. “You?”

 

“Yeah,” she echoes. “I guess I was kind of being a dick about it. I don’t, like. Think it’s bad you came back for me.”

 

“But you still feel shitty about it,” he says, quietly. She nods, and he sighs, running a hand through his hair. “Jesus. I don’t know where we even start with this shit.”

 

“You tell me. We were fighting earlier, and  _ you _ were the mature one,” she says, trying to at least sound like she’s joking. “Which was weird, by the way.”

 

Chase snorts. “You called me an  _ especially incompetent  _ adult. And you insulted my pancakes.”

 

“Incompetency and maturity aren’t mutually exclusive. And you burned the pancakes,” she says, smiling a little. She shakes her head, and takes a deep breath. “Chase. I miss everyone, all of the time.”

 

“We’re right here,” he says, quietly, but he sounds like he gets what she means. She shifts a little, so their arms are pressed together.

 

“I always knew we’d grow up,” she says, quietly. “I mean, I know I’ve always said I hated the idea of that, but at least we were doing it together. And this isn’t what I expected. Not that anything has been since we found about Pride, but—”

 

“You thought that maybe we’d finally get a break?” he asks. She nods.

 

“Yeah,” she mumbled. “I’m glad I’m alive, Chase. You did a really incredible thing, okay?”

 

“An incredible thing I screwed up.”

 

“I mean. Yeah. I guess that’s not mutually exclusive, either,” she nudges him a little with her elbow, and he manages a small smile. She takes a deep breath. “I miss  _ you _ . You did this amazing thing, and I know I don’t act like it all of the time, but you’re kind of amazing. Like, the kind of amazing I always knew you were going to be when we grew up. But I didn’t grow up, so we’re not...I don’t know. I miss what I thought was going to happen. It’s hard.”

 

“Yeah,” he says, quietly, and then he’s silent for a long time. She waits, because she wants to hear what he has to say. That’s one thing that hasn’t changed; she talks a lot of shit, but she always wants to hear what Chase Stein has to say.

 

“I don’t know how to fix us” he says, quietly. “You’re right. We have the age thing. And the two year gap thing. So, yeah, it’s not like we can just go back to what we were right now. Or ever, I don’t know.” 

 

She raises her eyebrows.

 

“This is the worst pep talk, Chase.”

 

He rolls his eyes. “Because I’m not done yet. I thought  _ I  _ was Talkback.”

 

She smiles a little despite herself and nods for him to go on. 

 

“I love you. I’m sorry you couldn’t be loved by a better person—”

 

“ _ Chase _ .”

 

“No, that’s not what I mean,” he said, frustratedly. “Or maybe it is, I don’t know. I wish I was smarter for you, or less  _ whatever _ , but I can’t be all that bad if you loved me in the first place. I figured that much out.”

 

“I always knew you would,” she says, and she means it.

 

“But that’s not really the point,” he says, his face determined and hard and soft all at the same time. “I’m always going to love you—”

 

“But?”

 

“ _ Gert _ .”

 

“Sorry, sorry. I’m listening.”

 

“I’m always going to love you,” he repeats. “Probably more than I’ll ever love anyone else, I think. It’s like that thing in Grey’s Anatomy, you know? You’re my person.”

 

He’s so earnest about it, she can’t even laugh. She’s not even sure she wants to. And, hey, at least he used a pop culture reference she gets. 

 

“I’m not sure you’re remembering the context of that scene correctly,” she says instead.

 

“Screw the context,” he says, quietly, shrugging. “You’re my best friend. I don’t know what we’re supposed to be right now, or, like, two years from now. We’ll figure it out. I just wanted to change what happened because you deserved better. I was sick of living in a world where the best person I know got fucked over.”

 

She takes a deep breath, the easiest one she’s breathed in weeks.

 

“Okay,” she says. There’s so much more they need to talk about, but she’s pretty sure she knows which part he needs to hear right now—what part she needs to say right now. “We can work with that.”

 

She leans her head against his shoulder, and he leans his head on top of hers. 

 

And then it sort of clicks—this is what Chase wanted to get back, more than fixing the world or the team or  _ them _ . Because this moment? It feels like coming home. She’s side by side with her best friend, the best person  _ she _ knows, and if nothing else, he has her back just like he always has. It reminds her what  _ good  _ feels like.

 

Of course everything still sucks. She’s still not sure what’s going to happen next. But if this is all Chase wanted, she gets it. She wants a thousand more moments like this, wants them so badly her stomachs.

 

This one moment is the least the universe can give them. It’s not enough. But for now, it helps. 

  
  
  
  
  
  
  



End file.
